by Liz Turner
small town corruption
a dana potter cozy mystery
LIZ TURNER
Contents
Chapter 1 The Mystery Blonde
Chapter 2 Room Nine
Chapter 3 Melting Ice
Chapter 4 Bruises
Chapter 5 Barney Mendel
Chapter 6 The Peacock
Chapter 7 Mitigating Circumstances
Chapter 8 State Patrol
Chapter 9 Motorcycle
Chapter 10 Southern Winter
About the Author
Preview of: Murder: The Missing Necklace
Other Books by Liz Turner
Chapter 1
The Mystery Blonde
Dana Potter could not believe what she had just seen.
She’d been pushing her portable grocery cart down the street, on her way to the local F & F’s Homegrown Grocery. The day was overcast—“My goodness. I hope this means we’re going to get rain,” she had remarked to the post office clerk that morning—but otherwise pleasant. Hence, it had seemed like a good day to get her shopping done. She had put on her magenta pantsuit—the one with the little dragonflies on the collar—and a wide-brimmed hat despite the shade.
If someone would have told her that she’d see something so depraved in her little town at eight a.m. on a Wednesday, she would have laughed in their face.
She’d grown up there in Pippin, Georgia and after retiring from her job as a real estate agent in Atlanta, she’d moved right back. Her boyfriend of twenty-five years (they’d never married because Dana didn’t believe in giving up her independence) had passed away in a car accident five years earlier, and she’d needed something familiar to fall back to.
She adored how little the place had changed in fifty years. Sure—there were new roads, new schools, and the eastern part of town had really blown up with new manicured subdivisions filling what used to be cow fields—but the heart of Pippin remained the same. Life was lived at a slower pace there, and the townspeople had rejected offers to sell their land to large big-box stores, preferring the comfort of the family-run businesses that had been there for decades.
Therefore, to see something as downright awful and unladylike as she’d just witnessed in front of the redbrick library on Main Street that she’d used herself as a little girl—Dana tsked and vowed to do something about it.
The perpetrator was a middle-aged woman who clearly wasn’t from around there judging from her attire. She’d had on a slim white business dress and cream-colored pumps.
No one wore white shoes in southern Georgia if they could help it, for the red clay seeped onto every surface no matter how many times the town paved over it.
The woman had long blond hair flowing in soft waves down her back and wore large sunglasses that covered most of her petite face.
Dana had been marveling at the woman’s absurdly city-like attire in a town like Pippin when she’d witnessed her pause in front of Pete, dip her hand into the cup he had outstretched in front of him, and close her fist around a couple of bills.
Dana had gasped, her hand fluttering to her chest, when she realized exactly what the woman was doing.
She was stealing from the homeless.
Pete was an older man who’d shown up in Pippin about a year after Dana had moved back. He’d ambled into town from the bus station after running out of money to go any farther and had simply never left, seeming to take a shine to the kindhearted folk there. His crinkling blue eyes above a wild salt-and-pepper beard always struck Dana as genuinely sweet.
Pete never did anything to anyone. A few times a week, he sat in his corner by the library and graciously accepted any spare change given to him. On hotter days, he would sometimes spend hours inside the library listening to audio tapes and making quiet, self-aware conversation with anyone who approached him. Never drawing undue attention to himself, he was always willing to offer a kind word to anyone who needed it.
The people of Pippin had an unspoken understanding that Pete was as much a member of their town as anyone. He slept in the church basement every night, earning his keep by cleaning up after Sunday services. Though many townspeople had offered to put him up in their homes, employ and pay him full-time at their businesses, and help him get on his feet, Pete always demurred softly. He preferred the simple life and felt that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He had a place to sleep, a job that fed him, and the kindness of others when he needed it. “Don’t want to change a thing,” he would say, smiling brightly.
Dana suspected something terrible must have befallen him in his life before he was homeless, making him content to live as he did. Either that, or he was just a humble person without a greedy bone in his body.
Anger broiled in Dana’s stomach as she watched the woman quickly click away on her heels. Dana wanted nothing more than to chase her down and make her apologize, but she knew she’d never catch her. So instead, she walked up the road to Pete.
“Pete?”
He looked in her direction, his unseeing eyes clouded over and unfocused. “Is that Ms. Potter I hear? Well, how are you doing this fine morning?” His hand rested on the harness of his seeing-eye dog, a yellow Labrador named Punchy.
Dana couldn’t help but smile at his infectious cheer. She had meant to tell him what had happened, but now, staring into his kind face, she wasn’t sure it would help any. He certainly wasn’t going to chase down the woman or go to the police for such a petty theft. “I’m fine, Pete,” she said. “How are you today? It looks like it might rain!”
“Well, now, that would be a blessing, wouldn’t it?” he said.
“That it would, Pete.” She stared after the woman’s disappearing silhouette down a side street, noting that she was heading east.
“Ms. Potter, did you happen to see who robbed me blind in broad daylight?” Pete asked suddenly.
Dana blinked, taken aback. “As a matter a fact, I did. I was just checking on you to make sure you were okay. Don’t worry. I’m going to find her.”
“Her?”
“Pete, why didn’t you stop her if you knew what she was doing?”
He shook his head slowly. “I figured anybody who steals from a blind man’s begging cup must be in pretty bad shape.”
Dana pursed her lips, thinking about how that woman’s fancy outfit told a different story.
“Well, Pete, you have my word that I’m going to find that woman and bring her to justice! We can’t have high-falootin’ people cruising into our humble town from God-knows-where and just committing crimes!”
Pete chuckled. “That’s all right, Ms. Potter. But I must say I admire your passion. Always have.” He smiled.
Dana smoothed her blazer. “I mean it, Pete. I’m retired anyhow, so I’ve got all the time in the world to devote to this little mystery.” She squeezed his arm affectionately. “I’ll see you later.”
“Goodbye, Ms. Potter!” he said cheerfully and then paused. “Isn’t it your anniversary today?” he added. “I remember it being right around this time in early March.”
Dana stopped in her tracks and smiled at him though he couldn’t see it. She hoped he would hear it in her voice though. “Yes, it is,” she said softly. “Thank you. I was planning to get some azaleas at the florist’s after I finish my shopping. It was Brent’s favorite flower.”
“That’s real nice,” Pete said, smiling wistfully.
And with that, Dana was off. She moved purposefully down the street into the grocery store, pushing her little cart in front of her. Once inside, she ran down her list and quickly went through the aisles to put her favorite brands into her cart.
“Ms. Potter, you must be in a hurry!” exclaimed Tera Wilcox as she rang up Dana’s items. She was a 17
-year-old who went to the local high school. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you spend less than forty-five minutes in here—twenty just inspecting the produce!”
Dana chuckled. “I’ve got something to do right after this, so I’m just going to hope the watermelon I’ve picked is sweet enough. Can you promise me that, Tera?”
The girl blinked. “Well, it looks like a good one to me, I can tell you that,” she said, seeming unsure how to respond.
“Oh, that’s all right, Tera. I’m just joking. I’m sure it’s fine. Thank you very much, dear.” Dana began to gather her bags and put them in her cart.
“Let me help you.” Tera moved from behind the counter and without waiting for Dana to respond, she took the bags from her and began arranging them inside the cart.
Dana frowned as she stared at the mess Tera was making, putting the cans of beans on the soft bananas, and precariously placing the jar of marinara on the top of the cart. “That’s all right, dear. Let me—”
“Oh no, no,” Tera said, smiling. “I’ve got this. You just relax.”
Dana sighed. Sometimes she hated the way people treated those who’d reached their 70th birthday as if they weren’t capable of taking care of themselves. She knew it was partly a good thing, this southern way of respecting the elderly.
Not that she thought of herself as elderly or anything…
“Thank you, Tera,” she forced herself to say. She frowned, a thought coming to her. “By any chance, have you seen a fancy dressed woman around here, wearing white heels?”
Tera thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I haven’t seen nobody like that at all.”
“Anybody,” Dana corrected.
“Huh?”
“You haven’t seen anybody like that at all this morning, then?”
“That’s what I said. Sorry. Only people that have been in here are the regular folk.”
Dana smiled. “All right. Thank you,” she said, and headed on her way.
All that texting has their grammar confused, she thought, reflecting on teenagers in general.
She checked her watch and saw that she had a little time before the florist opened, so she headed down the street to her favorite café, the Blue Swallow. It was owned by an old school friend of hers, although her daughter, Lydia, now mostly ran it.
The bells above the door clanged as Dana pushed inside. The place was the cutest little diner Dana had ever encountered. Atlanta had had some neat places, but they always tried too hard to be quirky, with their road signs on the walls and coffees served in mason jars. The Blue Swallow, on the other hand, looked as it had since it opened forty years ago, except for the coffee presses being updated and the back wall being blown out ten years earlier to make more room. It had sweet wooden walls and ceiling exposed beams. Gorgeous paintings, all in blue, covered the walls. They’d been collected over the years by Lydia and her mother; the duo had impeccable taste.
“Dana!” Lydia said, bustling over. She was a woman of large proportions, with a mop of curly auburn hair she kept tied with a bandana. “You’re here bright and early! What can I get you?”
“Hello, Lydia,” Dana said, returning a hug. “Just the usual, please.”
Lydia set to work preparing her Americano with a dash of almond milk.
“Have you had anyone in this morning or am I your first customer of the day?” Dana asked.
“Why? You lookin’ for a prize or somethin’?” Lydia said, chuckling. “If you are, you’re out of luck. We had some folks in here just about twenty minutes ago. Out-of-towner’s if you can believe it. I asked them if they were relatives of someone here, figuring I might know them, but they said no. I can’t imagine what would bring people like that into our town, just on vacation or something. Beats me! And we’re not even off any major highways.” Lydia shook her head, amused.
Dana’s ears perked up. “What did they look like?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A mother and daughter, I think. The girl was cute, but the mother…” Lydia whistled. “She was something else. Wearing this tight dress like she was going to walk into a business meeting with a wall street shark!”
Dana’s pulse quickened. That was the woman all right. “Did they say anything, like where they’d be going?”
Lydia looked at Dana, a twinkle in her eye. “You gone’ tell me what this is about?” She shook her head and placed her drink down in front of Dana. “They didn’t say much, but they looked really nervous. The older woman kept drumming her fingernails on the counter and looking over her shoulder at the door. She just about jumped when I came up behind her.” Lydia jerked her head to her left. “When they left, they went down the street awhile and then turned on Bradley Avenue.”
There was only one business on Bradley—the local mechanic.
So, the mystery continues, Dana thought, smiling a little and vowing that she wouldn’t let the woman get away with her misdeed.
Chapter 2
Room Nine
After finishing her coffee at a leisurely pace, Dana thanked Lydia and headed down the street. She turned onto Bradley Ave and walked into the open garage a few doors down. It was Osbourne’s Auto Shop, owned and operated by Richard Osbourne since before Dana could remember. He only ever kept a handful of mechanics for his staff, claiming that a good mechanic was hard to come by and he wasn’t going to rest his reputation on just anybody, even if it meant working long hours himself, well past the time he should have retired. Dana guessed he was about five years older she was.
“Ricky,” she called into the cavernous space. There was a single car inside the garage. She heard some clanging from behind it.
“Well, well!” Ricky clapped his hands together. “Ms. Potter, what brings you in today?” He looked around, clearly surprised that she had come on foot. “Don’t tell me that nice Toyota of yours has croaked so bad you can’t even drive it the few miles here!”
“No, no, my car is fine, Ricky,” Dana said, smiling. “I’ve just stopped by because I’ve got a favor to ask you.”
Ricky cocked a sideways look at her. He wore oil-stained jeans as always, and a raggedy baseball cap. “And what’s that?”
“Have you seen a blond woman around here, dressed quite nice? Lydia at the Blue Swallow said she saw her heading in your direction.”
“As a matter of fact, I have.” He nodded toward the car in the corner, a fairly new BMW, if rather dusty. “That’s her car there, actually.” He shook his head. “She came in here not too long ago to see if it was ready, but I told her no chance in heck I’d have that thing fixed in the space of two weeks, if at all. Them Euro cars got all special, expensive parts that not just everybody has lying around. And Pippin ain’t got any special dealers for that kind of thing. She was real upset with me ‘bout it too, and I almost told her to go take a hike and shove her money back where it came from. But I figure she seemed like she was in a real tough spot. In a hurry to leave, I think. So I told her I’d do my best to order what she needed.”
Dana frowned. This mystery woman puzzled her. Why steal from a homeless man if you could afford a BMW? Not to mention those clothes she was wearing.
Nevertheless, Dana felt a little hopeful thanks to Ricky’s information because it meant the woman was still in town and probably had no way to leave.
“Do you know where she’s staying while she waits?” she asked.
“I think she said something about the Walker Inn over on the east side.”
Figures she’d be on the east side, Dana thought. She smiled brightly. “Thank you, Ricky. That’s more than helpful!”
“What you trying to find this woman for, Ms. Potter? She not got a phone?”
Dana relayed what she’d seen the woman do to Pete.
Ricky shook his head slowly, a disgusted look on his face. “Ah, heck. If I’d have known that, I would have told her to shove it!”
Dana nodded firmly. “Well, I’m not letting her get away with it.”
“I’m sure you ain’t.” Wi
th that, Ricky tipped his baseball hat at her, and Dana left.
When she exited the garage, she found the sun was shining brightly, the heat having finally settled into the town.
I suppose no rain then, she thought.
As she squinted at the bright sky, she turned on her heels and went back inside the garage. “Ricky,” she called again.
Once again, Ricky’s head popped up from behind the car. He looked at her expectantly. “I need one last favor,” she said.
***
Ten minutes later, Dana sat in the passenger’s seat of Ricky’s pickup truck as they breezed along the main street that headed into the east side of town. Ricky had his country music playing and was drumming his hand on the leather covering of the steering wheel, happy to just listen to the music without talking much.
Dana nodded her head along with the music. She respected people who preferred silence. Years as a real estate agent, learning to read people within minutes and determine which sales approach would work best, had taught her that with some, less was more. Getting too bubbly and energetic made them recoil.
Shortly, they pulled into the parking lot of the Walker Inn. It was a small family-run Inn that felt more like a bed-and-breakfast. Pippin didn’t have many visitors that wouldn’t stay with family, so the inn mainly housed out-of-town wedding guests or the odd person in town for a job interview. It was a bright white-washed building with four little balconies on its front side.
Dana thanked Ricky for the ride and assured him she would find her own way back. He nodded and wished her good luck as he drove away, the pickup rattling down the road.
Dana pushed her cart up the wheelchair accessible ramp, glad she’d had the good sense to not buy anything that needed to be kept cold. Once inside, she looked around. The place was all dark wood inside, giving the impression of a log cabin in the woods rather than the suburban inn it actually was. She saw a toddler running a toy truck over the rug by the fireplace, his parents sitting on the sofa behind him. But no blond woman was in sight.
Dana directed herself toward the small check-in desk and hit the little bell.
